Thursday 13 on Wednesday

Thursday 13's a little early this week: a vacation's a-coming.

The Thursday 13 theme this week is no theme.


1. This is my lonely livingroom fireplace. Until one of us orthopedically recovers to lug and stack the woodpile, there'll be no fires in the household. Come by in a few weeks and it should be roaring.


2. Helpful Advice: Never name your car unless you know exactly what you're doing. This is Prissy (named for her attitude in snow). When jb finally traded her in for a Honda Accord, we left her in the dealer's parking lot with terrible guilt. In literature this is called personification.
Prissy called it abandonment.

3. This is Francine. She found her way to us from Santa Fe, joining other personified family members including Frank, Esther, Mildred, Uncle Kitty, and Emily Rabbit.

4. Once a week I drive 100 miles to spend the day with my mother, and 100 miles back. This is the same Massachusetts Turnpike immortalized by Arlo Guthrie and is particuliarly notable for the snail paced drivers in the passing lane.

5. Every bathroom should have this kind of inspiration. Afterall, what better place to concentrate on self-improvement?

6. A while back Andrea and others bared their refrigerators. Or was it freezers? If you look closely you will see Turkey Hill Chocolate Cherry Yogurt, Junior Mints, and Weightwatcher's Chocolate Eclairs. What's a freezer for if not emergency chocolate?

7. Thursday 13 turns serious....kj walks in the park, looks up, and the universe speaks.

8. Here is the spot where I often write. It's a little pond in a great park, an easy walk from my back gate. 9. Here is the spot where I look outside as I write. Amateur that I am, I couldn't get the camera to do it justice. But once I saw a baby fox run by, there are always fun loving woodchucks, and the towering pine and well of geraniums keep me good company.

10. No attempt to clean up the clutter here: it's my writing room and I love it.

11. Ces, this is for you. This is Stella and the miracle of healing.

12. My 90 year old mother has zero memory, really, but she somehow figured out how to call the florist and send me these funky flowers the day after my surgery.

and 13. Just words: Thank you for your visits and comments. You will never know how much they mean to me.

Strong Arms

I don't say "thank you" enough.

Strong Arms

I will catch you in the freefall
Should life become a grinding haul.
I will help you to your chair
Where you can play some solitaire.

I will stand in front of words and trains
Anytime they cause you pain.
And anything that blocks your step
I will beat back to safety’s depth.

You’ve done all of this for me
With simple generosity.
You complement so much I lack.
I just hope I give it back!

Songs of My LIfe

Cherrypie tagged me to share the songs that mean something to me. I was belting out and lip synching songs in the privacy of my bedroom as a pre-teenager. I've used broom handles as microphones and pretended to sing passionate songs in great theatre halls. Even after the nun teaching my first communication class pulled me aside and told me I could only move my lips and to cool it with my passionate attempts to sing, I've continued to be a fantasy singer. I admit I can't carry a tune. Oh, but I try.

So here are my favorites:

1. Someone to Watch Over Me: This George Gerswin tune has been sung by everyone from Ella Fitzgerald to Willie Nelson to the student in Mr. Holland's Opus. I listen to it and I tear up. The title says it all: who doesn't want this? And to someone to watch-over back....

2. Twist and Shout : Is there a better song to dance to? Mary Chapin Carpenter does this song fiddle country justice. I won't tell you what my daughter Jessica said about my dancing at her wedding to this song, but my uncharacteristic response was "Who gives a sh--?".

3. Blowing in the Wind: When I first heard this Bob Dylan song, I understood something about a peaceful world, and I deeply felt the wisdom and inspiration to do my part. I am a child of the 60's, really, and that has had a profound impact on who I am and what I believe.

5. Halleluiah sung by kd lang: This song mesmorizes, haunts and transports me whenever I hear it. Her voice is stunningly beautiful.

6. True Colors (Cindy Lauper)--Jess and Mike chose this song for their first dance at their wedding. I was surprised Jess liked it and it will always remind me of the day my favorite daughter married a man she truly loves.

7. If We Only Have Love"--When I was in college, I loved Charles Aznavour's "Jacque Brel is Alive and Living in Paris". I saw the play at the little Charles Theatre in Boston and listened to this album over and over. I've chosen this song in particular because in my mind some things are always true. Love rules.

8. The Great Peace Train: I'm at a Holly Near concert in my early 30's. She a lesbian comfortable in her own skin, has a fabulous voice, and isn't afraid to speak of peace without apology. All are qualities I want for myself--then and now--ok, ok, so I can't have the fabulous voice.

9. Angel in the House: If you haven't heard this sweet song, I recommend tracking down the group, The Story, and the cd of the same name. Jonatha Brooke was my neighbor and a dog friend when her cd was released. It was chosen by People Magazine as the pick of the week. Jonatha and I and and a varying dozen or so other people often stood in the open field of Cold Springs Park and talked about dogs and life and how this music was made. I look back on these days in the same way I currently cherish my blog relationships.

10. John Denver anything except his really hokiest songs: I like his simplicity, respect for nature and mountains and soaring. Last Christmas jb bought me a two cd collection of his greatest hits. You can see me happily singing along with him on the Massachusetts Turnpike. Of course, I am totally oblivious to you.

11. And last, Andrea Bocelli's Con Te Partiro. I'm not much of an opera fan but I played this song in Provincetown for the two years we lived there. Somehow it helped me understand both the sadness and the joy of life. I was knee-deep into both at the time, and hearing Bocelli belt this out helped me feel better about being very very human.

So now I'm tagging: Popscholar, Ruby, ValGalArt--Any interest in sharing the songs of your life?

Thursday 13: Miscellaneous

1. I have no clothes. Honest. Somehow in our move last year my winter clothes disappeared. Everything but a couple of sweaters. So today I went shopping. I bought two tops, two pairs of pants, a sweater, a blouse, and a camesol.

2. I also bought sneakers. So I can walk in the Isle of Capri and the park next door.

2. I haven't heard from the blog police (Jessica) in a while, so I must be posting more descreetly

3. Did I already mention that jb and I commissioned a dog communicator, which is a fancy word for a psychic, to tell us about Stella's life before we got her? She spoke to Stella over the phone and told us what she said. Everyone we know is making fun of us but we thought it was great. And helpful.

4. The last time I was in Italy was 30 years ago. I will soon go again, with jb, to the Almalfi Coast.

5. Cherry Pie has tagged me for my favorite songs. I know my very favorite is George Gershwin's "Someone to Watch Over Me".

6. Woo Hoo! The season opener of "Lost" aired last night. This is an awesome series, on every Wed. night. I don't watch much tv but I don't miss this if I can help it.

7. Last Monday the Big Yellow writing group resumed. It is called that because Nerissa Nield's house is big and very yellow. I was so glad to see Kris. I can't describe how great it is to hear people read their work outloud, and to read mine.

8. One of my favorite jokes is "How many psychiatrists does it take to change a lightbulb?"
Answer: Just one, but the lightbulb has really got to want to change....) (smile)

9. This weekend Jess and I are taking my mother to her family reunion. There will be over a hundred people there and I will know about 20. My mother is the oldest and is known as "Aunt Rose".

10. No firewood, alas, in the household yet. Neither jb nor I can lift or carry--my back and her knee. We are thinking of putting an orthopedic doctor on retainer (smile again)

11. Our friend Heather is coming for the weekend. She and jb are enrolled in collage workshops at a nearby artisan school Sat. through Monday. When we get together, we talk all night and usually end up doing or discussing some kind of art.

12. Jess came to visit and stayed over last Friday night. We made pancakes Saturday morning and looked at pictures of her when she was a baby. Nothing--I mean nothing--is better than this kind of time with Jess.

13. I know I have misspelled two words in this post. One of the best teachers I've had used to say, "Perfect isn't coming today".

More to Say (who knew?)

Yesterday Stella and I resumed our walks in the Park. I bring one 8 by 11 piece of blank paper and a pen. At some point we find a bench. Stella sniffs and I write. This is what happened yesterday. To my surprise, my thoughts on destiny and life had more to say.

So this is, I guess, part 2 of "longing for destiny". If it's not obvious, the incredible honesty, sincerity and reflection I've found in so many blogs is the engine for these two poems. The counselor in me wants to offer guidance. The writer in me hopes my words are good . And the person in me--hey, it's just me--hopes I understand myself, and thus you, at least some of the time.....


If I knew you were weighing,
waiting,wondering about your place and space;
If I watched your emptiness
Take shape,
One day content in the simple act of
cooking dinner, with basil on your fingers,
Other times withdrawing
through the sting of disappointment,
Or confused by the countless dualities
That lead you to the familiar and unknown,
To the window and the cellar,
All at the same time. All at once.

If I knew and watched
Your hearftfelt effort
To find yourself
At the place you first got lost,
I would watch for so long;
I would be sad there is no shortcut
To wisdom
And fearful of sounding pompous,
But also, I would remember that
your heart can win out.

I could tell you a few things
That may help, depending.
I could tell you it is what it is,
That you have to feel your way through jagged walls sometimes.
But in the end they will help you balance
between the mundane and the sacred.

I could tell you the confusion stays.
It doesn’t really shrink with age,
Sometimes because of real or imagined hurts.
And sometimes because DNA works that way.

But—this is important-- the wonder stays too
As does the part you already know—
The part where love matters monumentally.

So here it is.
The Ying. The Yang. The best. The worse.
This is where you might lose it.
These damn dualities.
I can’t tell you why you might wake up in turbulence
When the rest of the world is busy watching jeopardy.

Or why sometimes you soar and other times crash.
But I can tell you to expect confusion.
To learn to work with it.
To work around it. And beside it.
And I can tell you there will always be wonder.
Exhaulted wonder,
Where for a moment the stunning fireworks
Pull you from your roots
And you know every single thing--
All of it compacted into the shining molecule of acceptance.

Can this help?
Can you stay with yourself
When the ground shifts
And you drift to uncertainty?
Can you accept before you seek?
Can you give yourself a break
And let not knowing
Sit in its own space without overflow?
You can.

Longing for Destiny

Last night I returned to my big yellow weekly writing group. It's been 3 or 4 months since I've read one of my poems or stories outloud. When I do that, I connect with how much I love writing. I love it.

The prompt this week was from a book on love and somewhere in it was the phrase "longing for destiny". I got to thinking that sometimes the search for destiny can take you to the wrong place:


It’s a bus to nowhere, really.
It’ll stop for you, transport you somewhere else,
Accept your token and save you the effort
But you won’t find destiny there, if that’s what you’re looking for.

Once or twice you might think you have—
You might settle in with great hope,
Ready to let love and longing
Tumble onto you like a box of cherrios—
One circle and another filling the circle bowl you call your life.

Over time you may travel a number of buses
And any one may be your portal
To rich ground where you build your home,
Where you fall into a softened corner
And find your cherished place.

You wish. You wish it works this way. That’s fair.
But wishes aren’t like bus routes.
Wishes wither in the moments of now.
They require nourishment that comes only from the future,
And there is no portal to pass through
That will take you there and back.

The right moment. The right person. The right place.
The right job. The right time. The right break.

Right is what makes this wrong.
All of it.
When you decide right in advance,
Your possibilities cool like reheated toast.

Forget the endless bus routes.
It’s about today Now. Here. This moment.
This couch. That’s all of it.
You show up. You notice. You try.
And then you let the universe steer
Into the night. That’s plenty. That’s enough.

Stress-Speak

Let me say this upfront: I don't know if the following post on stress is helpful, or boring, a good read or worthless chatter. I'll appreciate any opinion or feedback you're inclined to share. My criteria for writing something like this is very simple: it either helps because you understand something in a new light, or it puts you to sleep. If it's the latter, I'm better off knowing. :)


Stress is bad. And common. Even small anoyances and irritations--a rude sales clerk, a snappish friend, a messy bathroom--can trigger the body’s stress response--affecting digestion, immunity, cognitive and sensory skills, pain threshold, even sexual drive. It comes in all forms--a dead car battery when you’re late already, a sick child when you’re due to fly to Chicago, a broken promise, a performance review by a supervisor who doesn’t like you, or even by one who does. Then add the catastrophic--the unexpected diagnosis, a job lay off, the end of a relationship.

Stress and conflict are an inevitable part of life, but the actual events that take place are only part of the problem. Your body reacts when you only think about an event or problem, even those that have not even occurred--the IRS audit, the mounting bills, the career challenge, the inevitability of death. Did you know that your mind cannot tell the difference between imagined versus real danger?

Even with effort and awareness, you can't always avoid stress. You do not have to let actual or anticipated problems dictate your mood, but that is exactly what will happen if you do not intervene in some way. It helps to know that from the moment the alarm clock goes off and your feet hit the bedroom floor, you are influenced by last night’s dreams, yesterday’s worries, by old stress and new stress. You don't start with a fresh slate unless you find a way to bypass their effects on you, and if you don't do that, your day can start badly before it even begins.

You can’t control most of the events that happen as you live your life, but you can control how you respond to them. The trick is to be able to bypass your mind, which worries about every thing, and your ego, which needs to be right. You do this by not letting stress accumulate, by not letting one difficult event spill into another, by walking away from conflict whenever you can, and by using proven stress management techniques: Yoga. Prayer. Meditation. Exercise.

Chronic worry is bad for you--especially when you worry about things that may or may not happen. Because your mind doesn't know whether your house has burned down or you are simply worrying that your house may burn down, the result can be disastrous to your physical well-being. Symptoms from colitis, irritable bowel syndrome, chronic fatique, fibromalgia, and headaches have a direct link to this kind of worry overload. (Sapolsky, Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers, 1998)

There are many people who would tell you that stress is healthy and stress management is worthwhile. I'm not one of them. I view it a different way: I think it's best to keep a watchful eye not to let stress and worry accumulate from one day to the next. Take breaks. Take time. Remember to breathe out, not just in. And have a 2 or 3 minute technique you can count on when you need to clear your head fast. And, then, of course, live your life.......

Thursday 13: Not About Reasons I'm Proud of Myself

I told jb I planned to write a "Thursday 13" on reasons I feel good about myself.

Silence. "Don't you think that's alittle vain?"

Me: "I was thinking it might be inspirational".

jb: "What will you say?"

Me: "I'll write about some nice things I've done.

jb: "If it's not vain, it might be boring"

Me: "I thought I'd give myself credit for a few things that might help someone else."

Silience again. "What other topics are you thinking about?"

Ok. That ended that. I'm leaving it at the following few kj facts: I try. I care. I see. I'm fun.

In hope of a non vain, non boring Thursday 13, here then is a hum'drum update on life in general:


1. I am still recuperating from my back surgery. I can now admit it was a major deal and it's been hard. I'm spending a surprising amount of time on the couch.

2. Friday I see the surgeon and hope he will tell me I can move and bend without being my paranoid hypocondriac self.

3. I can't stand the fact that I won't be planting spring bulbs and fall mums this year. This screws up my ongoing plans for the yard, not to mention the little stone border .

4. Our local friends have been great: offers to walk Stella, dropping by with lunch, even stacking some firewood. I am again aware how difficult it is for me to be vulnerable. I'm really really really trying to be myself in all this, including the vulnerability, but it's not easy.

5. I went to physical therapy yesterday and she said I am doing great. I probably am...

6. Any suggestions for babyboy names?

7. The first time I ever used e-mail, I knew I would love it. I never guessed I would love the blogs. Sometimes I sit in wonder at the range of creativity I experience from them and how genuinely smitten I've become. Since I tend to gallavant, I am certain I will meet certain blogger friends someday, and I would have never guessed that either.

8. I find CherryPie very fascinating. I love her spirit and her wit.

9. If I were to write about reasons I feel good about myself, I would say I made a lasagna for my grieving neighbor the night before my surgery. Her husband Steve died when he shouldn't have.

1o. The book proposal was finished and mailed (yay!) on Monday. Now I wait for my agent's response and hope she and I are both ready for the next steps. If not, I'll make new decisions, but there's no stopping me ..

11. My recuperation has led me back to Book # 1. I redid the outline and table of contents and I'm falling in love with it all over again.

12. I wonder if I should/want to start presenting workshops again. I know they matter, but they take alot out of me. I'm thinking this because the "little workshops on happiness" would propel again me into material for the book.

13. jb and I have a four day weekend ahead. Next week I can drive again and I'm channelling that I will be well more my old self by then.

Poetry Thursday: The Writer

I write from the smallest space—
Stripping details from salmon walls,
A little room near the magic cottage,
A studio and coffee cups in Bemidji Minnesota
And the park bench where the muse likes to visit.

From a single chair in the smallest space
the writing life is wide and wild,
Carousing the world for the tiny details
Of gloriously flawed, and ever hopeful lives.

Writers sit in solitary rooms
And choose one word, and then another
Wrestling the spikes of humanity
And the softness of giving up,
Choosing words that string together
like the pearl necklace,
Around that long proud neck, extending
From one writer to the next
Trying, trying to tell the truth.

I’ve met writers this year:
Justin--the tekkie with the tender heart, traveling east
Sara-- the teacher teaching to learn.
Me—the optimist who loses moments
John Denver—who died flying empty, asking What does it take for a blind man to see that there’s more than just meets the eye?
Vanessa, who finds a hole to find herself
Jessie--whose words alone assure you this is a good good person
Mary Oliver—getting it right in the Provincelands.

Words that pop like a perfect tennis ball
Make the whole day worthwhile.
Astonishment. Integrity. Grace. Velocity.
Words that bridge,
From sorrow to senrendipity,
From fallen leaves to the first crack of spring.
Words that tell you in the wild wide world,
It’s all ok

Mom and the Orthopod

When I arrive at your house, you're impectably dressed and waiting. You know we are going somewhere but you ask me five time from the livingroom and five times in the car where we are headed, and why.

I answer you factually eight times and impatiently twice, but not impatiently enough that you tell me I'm not being nice, so I guess you don't notice my slips.

We have made this appointment for your knees because it's obvious you can't maneuver stairs without using a banister to pull yourself up, and lately you've asked if you can get a cortisone shot. But today you do not remember any of that, and you tell me your knees are pretty good.

We don't know this doctor. Dr. R recommended him and I am glad because the other knee guy, Dr. H, was too rote. This doctor has looked at your x-rays before we arrive (good sign) and asks you to tell him what about your knees bothers you. You say, "The weather".

He says, "No, I mean, can you walk a mile? What can't you do?"

I am amazed he asks my 90 year old mother if she walks a mile. She answers directly, "No doctor, but I never could walk a mile". She and I smile. He continues.

He tells my mother, "Your knees are bone on bone. You could have surgery but I doubt you want that". My mother agrees. He continues, "You should be fine as long as you avoid stairs".

You say, "I can't--my laundry is in the cellar".

He says, "You have to find someone to do your laundry then. You shouldn't do stairs".

You smile. I know this is going right over your proud defiant head.

He tells you again. This time you act surprised. "Oh", you say, "I can't use the stairs?"

He says, "Are you in the same room as me?"

Normally I would find a way to tell him politely but clearly to be more respectful and civil, but my mother does not let on she cannot remember from minute to minute and he is trying his best to make a point.

When you again do not hear, he says, "Look, your knees are not stable. If you continue to use the cellar stairs, you will fall and break your neck and die. Then you won't have to worry about your knees".

My mother smiles.

When we get home, I am determined to use this in-your-face medical appointment to wean you off stairs once and for all. I tell you the doctor has forbidden you to go down the cellar. You protest and refuse, "I am not going to stop doing my laundry". You are emphatic.

I become more forceful, to which you finally say, "kj, you're making me feel like I'm a hundred years old........."

OK, That's Enough

Forgive me if I end up making a political statement, but
I have to tell you so you don't ever think this is the way it is or should be.

It's a crazy world and some things never change. But something's happened in the USA and around the world that I can't let you believe for one moment is the way it was or the way it should be.

The United States is part of a body of nations that honors and adheres to the Geneva convention. This means we don't do and we don't condone torture. . This fact has never been up for discussion until the Bush Administration's response to 9-11. Please don't think that the current state of the US government--Congress included--means that something that's worked for fifty years needs to change. We don't do torture and we certainly don't expressedly condone it. Replace that and the moral authority of a free nation can no longer be a beacon for a free world. We've lost too much of that already.

Name calling by grown men solves nothing. Call a country a "evil" and label almost every mid eastern person who doesn't agree with you a "terrorist" and you get called names in return. That's how it works. Of course we have to have and consider military solutions for complex problems, but using "evil" as a black and white noun imflames and creates what we're now seeing: simplistic loudmouth cowboys who seem to forget we only have one planet at our disposal.

Ok, that's all I have to say. I know I am waddling into dangerous territory. War is hell whether it's for the right or wrong reasons. I won't debate that. I really don't want to know who's red, who's blue, and who's purple for that matter. But too many of my blog friends are in their late 2o's and early 30's. I have to tell you it's not supposed to be this way. Not this extreme. Not ever.

Thursday 13:

This week I'm sharing some of my favorite quotes, organized by yours truly's principles for a happy life.

1. Keep It Simple
“A mess can cover up more than tables and floors. People lose themselves in the day-to-day stuff, and they don’t get to be who they really are.”
Organizer Extraordinaire, Laurie Arriola

2.Stay Present: Correct the Past, Plan the Future, But Live Now
“We are born at the rise of the curtain and we die with its fall, and every night in the presence of our patrons we write our new creation, and every night it is blotted out forever; and of what use is it to say to audience or to critic, “Ah, but you should have seen me last Tuesday?”
Michael MacLiammoir, The Bell,
“Hamlet in Eisinore”, 1952

3. Commit: Find a Purpose and Live It
“I always wanted to be somebody. Now I see that I should have been more specific”
Lily Tomlin/Jane Wagner

4. Don’t Turn on Yourself
“When will you have a little pity for every soft thing that walks through the world, yourself included?”
Mary Oliver

5. Keep Conflict to a Minimum
"One cool judgment is worth a thousand hasty counsels. The thing to do is to supply light and not heat. "
Woodrow Wilson, 1916

6. Laugh and Cry
“Bad times have a scientific value. These are occasions a good learner would not miss.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson,
The Conduct of Life, 1860

7.Do Good Work
“Don’t ask your self what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive, and then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who come alive” (Harold Whitman).

8.Bend Bend Bend: Choose Happy Instead of Right
“There is no good in arguing with the inevitable. The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.”
James Russell Lowell, “Democracy”
address in Birmingham England 1884

9.Create
“I entered biology to understand the beauty of life. I started with the ecology of animals, but that wasn’t quite right, so I went one level deeper, to the study of tissues, then to chemistry, and finally even dabbled in the depths of quantum mechanics. Yet when I got there, I saw that the wonder of life had somehow slipped through my fingers along the way.”
Allbert Szent-Gyorgyi,
Nobel Laureate Biologist

10. Connect
“Do you want me to tell you something really subversive? Love IS everything it’s cracked up to be. That’s why people are so cynical about it. ..It really IS worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.”
Erica Jong, How to Save your Own Life, 1977

And a final word from the Saint of the Universe:
We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But if that drop was not in the ocean, I think the ocean would be less because of that missing drop. I do not agree with the big way of doing things.
Mother Theresa, 1975

The Little Girl

I must be better. I'm writing again. Thanks to each of you for all the well wishes.

Some of you know I have written a career counseling book called "Good Work!" and have been working on the proposal to shop to publishers. But this is my 2nd book: the first was started now four or five years ago and put aside when I became discouraged by my agent's feedback.

This first book is on Happiness and it is the literary equivalent of the love of my life. This morning I revisited some pages I have not seen for quite some time. And for whatever reason, I've selected an excerpt. It begins a chapter called "Don't Turn On Yourself", one of ten principles for a happy life. I can vouch that every word of he story of the little girl is true:


“When will you have a little pity for every soft thing that walks
through the world, yourself included?” Mary Oliver


The little girl left for school every day wearing some derivative of a red plaid dress with a black pattern leather belt that matched her shoes and her folded down white cotton ankle socks. Every day, usually just before she arrived at school, and sometimes during recess, she threw up.
Every day she walked back home because she had soiled her dress or socks or coat, and on really bad days, everything.

When the little girl opened the back door and and stepped into the kitchen, her mother was there waiting, ready to hug her and tell her how brave she was. She helped her little daughter change into a set of fresh clothes that were already laid out on the back of the kitchen chair, and within five minutes, she was on her way back to school, where she was the teacher’s favorite and popular and comical among her peers.

The little girl is now a mother herself. She cannot imagine having the patience to clean vomit and prepare a second set of dress clothes every day. She loves her own daughter, but she cannot imagine this level of enduring patience. When she tells her friends about her childhood nervousness, she holds back tears as she says that her mother’s message—in word and deed—was that she was a courageous and strong little girl, never a shameful or difficult problem.

The little girl who is now an adult knows that this message resonates with her still, and maybe that is why she is able to take risks and engage in life even when she throws up.

Some Facts:
In a study on adult self-esteem, researchers found that people who are happy with themselves take defeat and explain it away, treating it as an isolated incident that indicates nothing about their ability. People who are unhappy take defeat and enlarge it, making it stand for who they are and using it to predict the outcome of future events (Brown and Dutton 1995).

The Back-Side

A brief update:

Impatient.
Sore.
Slow.
Sleepy.
Improving.
Restless.
Up-set.
Alittle
Better.
Unbending.
&
Looking up.

Poetry Thursday: If I Were You

What would I write if it weren't me writing?

If I were you
What would I do
When darkened winds
Came tumbling through?

I would hope
I would mope
Just long enough
To start to cope.

I would clear
My plate of fear
and let the godess
guide me here

To where I'd stand
Feet in the sand
Heart in command,
And definately no reprimand

Just a sense that being you
Is all I really need to do
To find myself
And make it true.

Thursday 13: Autumn in New England

This is a great time of year. The leaves change color and wood gets delivered for the season. It gets me thinking:

1. I'm gearing up to cook more, especially soups and breads

2. When the leaves change color, they become the most vibrant reds and yellows and oranges you will ever see. I can't imagine any place can be more beautiful than New England in the fall.

3. Our witch Esther (and her daughter Mildred) is preparing to hand out Halloween candy. She sits on a high stool in front of a black curtain backdrop and waves from the front door. Sometimes she throws candy at kids and their parents and sometimes she stuffs candy bars in her mouth. When people shake her hand, they are often startled and spooked because it's a real handshake.

4. Normally I'm wanting to stack wood inside for the fireplace, plant mums, and clean up and mulch the garden. Not this year, at least not until my back cooperates. (damn)

5. Sometimes jb and I spend our little amount of free time driving up and down country roads, stopping to buy $ 2 pumpkins at the end of driveways and funky gourds for the dining room table.

6. I love planning Christmas presents this time of year: I start shopping for stocking stuffers and promise myself I will be done with gifts by Thanksgiving. I never am.

7. I cook a turkey for Thanksgiving even when dinner's not at our house. I can't resist the smell of it all. It makes me feel grateful.

8. I tend to read more in fall and winter. I hope I'll write more too.

9. I love walking in bad weather, as long as my feet and head are warm.

1o. My big yellow writing group starts up again next week and this includes a writing retreat weekend in October. I like these folks so much! We write, read aloud, and then offer only positive feedback to the fragile seedlings that we are. I wish this kind of "community" for every writer.

11. I also ove the smell of wood burning. And evergreen candles. And my ashram sidda incense.

12. I reluctantly accept the coming of winter. I'm afraid to drive in snow and I don't ski or do winter sports. The only part I really like is giant snowstorms when everything shuts down and I do too.

13. I complain less this time of year because I figure I'm lucky to have a roof overhead that doesn't leak.

There you have it. Happy Fall.

A Little Tree

Today I am scheduled for a hospital pre-op visit and final review with the surgeon who will delicately operate on my unsuspecting but appreciative upper back on Friday. I do not like the thought of being unconscious one bit, and I have no idea how I will feel when it's over. Last night I relied on butterscotch pudding therapy and it helped considerably, so I plan to use all the resources available to me for the next few days...

In this context of my first and only surgery since kindergarten, this morning my non-working supervisor-self gleefully watched the planting of an 8 foot crabapple tree, right outside my writing room. It will flower and grow as I do. So although I am driving into the little city soon for an afternoon of medical meddlings, right now I am looking at this little tree and I hear a soft little squeal of delight.

I'm taking the tree with me in my back pocket to bolster me through the day. And tonight if needed I'll arrange some more butterscotch pudding therapy.

September 11

Five years ago, like everyone else, I witnessed and watched the unthinkable. This hit very close to home: the Flight 11 terrorists stayed at a motel less than a mile from my house. And many of my daughter's colleagues were on that first plane.

Today, like everyone else, I watch and witness a world in turmoil. There are grave differences in the way we each hope and work for solutions, but today, and tomorrow, I pray that those differences pale from the weight of our common humanity. I pray that the commonalities and conscience of people across the world find a solution for a lasting peace.

Thursday 13 with a twist of yikes!

On this Monday, I'm very late in posting the latest Thursday 13.

1. When I'm depressed or scared, I handle my feelings pretty well but my body prefers to feel drained and sometimes sick.

2. My improving back problem isn't good: I saw a surgeon a few days ago and he said I need surgery--this week!

3. I feel drained and sick about it.

4. I haven't had surgery since my tonsils were removed in kindergarten.

5. I have no real symptoms in the area where the surgery is needed but if I were to, it could be difficult to correct--thus the urgency

6. This unexpected event is occurring at a very good point in my life--another forceful reminder to 'ride the horse in the direction she is going'

7. The doctor told me I cannot dig holes to plant the grasses and mums that await me. I will resourcefully find a way to be a non-working supervisor for this endeavor but I'm not happy about it.

8. It is easier for me to talk about something difficult afterwards rather than during, but I am doing it differently this time. Good for me.

9. My fall plans include the resumption of my weekly writing class, a big yellow weekend writing retreat, a trip to the Almalfi Coast in Italy, Jess' baby shower, adding a gas stove to the new porch, seasoned wood in the fireplace, and getting this yapping book proposal and book out into the world.

10. I am going to trust that my fall plans will all work out.

11. My mind is pretty ingenious: as soon as I have a problem I didn't know I had, I immediately notice the symptoms. This works in reverse too: if I think I am sick, then see a doctor who tells me I'm not, the symptoms I've had disappear. Just like that!

12. This weekend jb and I were in spectactular Vermont--visiting friends on Lake Champlain. I hobbled abit but had a fully fabulous time.

13. In health matters, I tend to be an optimistic hypocondriac. Or a hypocondriacal optimist. (pardon the spelling?). Either way, I'd rather be digging holes. But I'm pretty confident I'll be alright. This is microsurgery: I'll be home the same day as the surgery (Friday) or the next day. I plan to keep my feet well-grounded in front of me......

Poetry Thursday: Unmerited Grace

The title comes from Annie Dilliard's book on writing. I'm alittle "blue" writing this poem today(blue being the Poetry Thursday prompt this week) but blue is one of many colors in the fabric of my life these days.

Unmerited Grace

It slides through the window—
an elongated ribbon
Carousing the room,
A floating catapillar
With a mid air swish
Down the hall
into and over the lazy couch
And busy stove.
There it branches off blanketing
My footprints and car keys
And even my worn sweatshirt
With the Arizona decal on it.

I’m showing up here!
I’m trying to piece together
The cutting confusion
And the magnificent moments.

This unmerited grace
Wraps itself around my ankles—
Holding me in place
When I fall short
And pushing me forward
When I know better.
I’ve seen enough, really.
I know life can work when it doesn’t
And it can’t when it does.
I know prime can’t assure admission
And good people die
When they should be sunning.

I know all this
Only too well.
When that ribbon
Of unmerited grace
Finds me spent and shaking
In the far end corner
I could so quickly fold
like a dollar bill
Passed through too many idle hands.

But I don’t fold.

I shake and shudder
And sometimes whimper
From a place so deep
I can say
I’ve never been there.

But I don’t fold.

Finally, I know enough
To appreciate
The arrival of unmerited grace
In any form
And by any means.
When I see it
Sliding through my window
Swishing down the hall
Branching and blanketing,
I drop to my knees
And recite the only
Real prayer
I’ve ever known:
Thank you.

Simplicity

It's been an active week with not enough time be a good blogger.

Instead, I'm passing on some helpful advice:

Bark less.
Wag more.

Thursday 13: Just a Life

1. She keeps her "to do" lists on 8x11 envelopes
2. This has been an incompatible and intriguing summer of Weight Watchers and Diary Queen hot fudge sundaes
3. Once she fell through a manhole cover. The emergency room doctor who treated the cut on her leg called it a ##@@&&** big laceration.
4. Another time she passed out while eating lobster at a little pier in Maine. The emergency room doctor touched her shoulder and told her it was a pleasure to meet her. For some reason she knew he meant it.
5. She makes pesto and freezes it in ice cube trays.
6. She and her family do the best Christmas stockings every year--no drug store fillers for this group.
7. Her picture is included at the request of a feisty and talented blog-friend.
8. Her apartment in Germany was so cold that the toilet often froze.
9. She is capable of seeing flowers rhythmically dancing in the wind
10. Put her in a bookstore and she'll browse for hours. Try a clothing store and she's restless after 5 minutes.
11. Her two best friends are men.
12. Is this the face of a grandmother?
13. Will she paint birdhouses this winter? Will her book be picked up by a
publisher? Will she ever learn to carry a tune? Is she really as wise
as she occasionally feels? Are the Red Sox finished?

Your Jittery Mind

This comes from the work I am currently doing.
Part 1 is about "Your Jittery Mind".
Part 2--coming at a later date-- is about"Your Hopeful Heart"

Your heart pounds. Your hands sweat. Your head spins. Your balance sways. Are you facing a mugger in a fight for your life? Or a moving vehicle coming at you at 70 miles an hour? Are you on the receiving end of a phonecall that includes the words “cancer” and “inoperable”?

Or, are you preparing for that job interview, being introduced to your blind date, fighting rush hour traffic, or presenting a marketing plan to your boss?

Do you get the difference? Psychological fear is not the same as actual danger, but it will feel that way unless you understand how fear works and how your mind reacts to it.

Preparing for crises and creating contingency plans is useful in the concrete world of flying airplanes and repairing heart valves. But in your day-to-day life, the more you try to control events and bolster your protection against real or perceived hurts, the more fear begins to dominate how you live and what you decide. It can knock you right out of the present moment. Your mind’s response to fear can protect you from grave harm, but it can also close you down and freeze you shut.

From the dawn of personkind, the human mind has been hardwired to warn of impending danger. The warning comes through clear and compelling physical alarms: rapid heartbeat, sweating, lightheadedness, increased adrenaline, sometimes even unnatural strength and courage. But the days of fighting for food or guarding against predators is long gone. In the 21st century, our real life “dangers” are mostly psychological: the unexpected layoff, the broken heart, the fear of the dark--but your mind doesn’t know the difference.

In the world of DNA hardwiring, danger is danger, and until you understand that the difference between psychological fear and true threat, you may react to any of these symptoms as if you are in a fight for your life. Except you aren’t, because a blind date or a new job interview is not in the same class as facing a frothing wild tiger or feeling a knife at your throat.

So unless you actively intervene, here’s what happens as you prepare for that blind date or job interview: your mind reves into high gear, preparing, planning, and anticipating every step you take and every step you even think about. In high alert, it kicks off what’s called the ‘fight or flight’ response: you mobilize in an instant to either tightly stand and defend yourself, or run like hell. The good news is that in dire terrifying circumstances, you will try every means possible to shield yourself from harm—sometimes even through supernatural strength or courage that you didn’t know you had. But the bad news is that your mind’s focus on safety, facts, and guarantees can overreact to normal events and that can limit your possibilities and smother your movement. When it comes to life and career decisions, the very thought of moving to a new location or readying for a job interview can send you into full alert mode. From your mind’s perspective, the unknown is the enemy.

The trick is to find a way to convince your mind that things are ok. This is a problem because your mind can’t hear you very well when it’s searching so quickly for facts and solutions. You experience this as racing—a mind that never stops. When the facts aren’t clear, your mindresists taking any steps or making making any decisions without them.

You’ll do yourself a huge favor by simply recognizing that most of your fears do not fall in the category of extreme danger. Then you can help your mind relax and lighten up.

There are only two ways you can overcome the strict rationality and overprotection of your mind: you either need to quiet it (meditation? physical exercise?) or re-assure it (“It’s ok, mind, we are going to try something new, but I promise I will check with you before making a final decision).

Dr. Herbert Benson of the Mind and Body Institute has empirically proven the power and benefit of bypassing your mind altogether when facing important decisions or seeking a calm shelter. Doing this probably contradicts what you’ve been taught since childhood, which is that reason and logic are far more trustworthy than faith and emotion.

Since most of us apologize for being “too emotional”, you are probably accustomed to making major life decisions by minimizing or ignoring your emotions. Actually, the facts contradict this approach: reason works better when emotions are present: a person sees sharper and more accurately when his/her emotions are engaged. The truth is you really can’t see an object or a situation clearly unless you have some emotional involvement with it.

If you're relying on a brain surgeon or flight pilot, you want logic. But day-to-day fears cannot be quelled by your mind. And good decisions can't be made without the involvement of your heart.

A Rough Day and Random Thoughts

It's actually been a bear of a day. First, blogger demanded my password, rejected my name, kept mentioning google, and thoroughly made it impossible for me to post, comment, scroll, or enjoy. I assume google has changed its operating procedures, but, hey, how about some communication beforehand?

Then there's my ongoing problem with paperwork: a letter to my local city hall about a claim when the snowplow blew out the fence; another letter to a condo association that has fined me because my tenant's birdfeeder is too large (say, what?); and a search for a water meter somewhere in the house that will tell if there's a water leak underground. Then there's the challenge of figuring out why our bills and budget works perfectly well on paper but doesn't work that way in reality. And finding a sink vanity with the same demensions as the old one so the floor doesn't have to be replaced too. And weighing what to do about 10 minutes of blow in insulation that will cost $ 550, even after the company ripped up our porch roof and had to replace it. And a new referral for counseling: am I ready to take on clients again? (It's been a fabulously playful summer).

Sometimes, too often, my life is filled with too many chores and too little simplicity. Today was one of those days.

I'm still reeling about blogger. Is it fixed? I cannot say. After repeatedly and unsuccessfully trying to find a person to speak with--anyone--I'm resigned to the fact that I either have to hope I will learn more about blog operation, or....wait until something fixes itself. Guess which of these two scenarios has allowed me to write this post.

Thursday 13 in Pictures

1. Once upon a time a family lived in a 14 room house with 3 floors and one small patio. They were a happy family to the end, when they moved.

2. They lived in this house for 20 years: they and two dogs, two cats, one bird, two hampsters, and one special fish.

3. They moved because it was expensive where they lived, they were ready to simplify, and the house was a two family condo and they decided the privacy and yard of a single family house would be wonderful.

4. So they moved to this house:

5. The only thing wrong with this house was that the youngest of this happy family did not move here too because she fell in love and married a nice man and together they understandably got a place of their own. Fortunately for all, love multiplies instead of divides.

6. The new house is a cozy little place, after a year of painting and unpacking and moving things around and getting settled.

7. From the kitchen window you can see butterflies in the zinnias and birds in the birdbath and an occasional hummingbird.

8. The back hall of this ranch house ended up looking kind of spiritual, which is a good thing for any number of reasons. The back hall has been dubbed "the wing".

9. The view from the back porch overlooks the hollywood hot tub. The backyard used to be open to a major road and constant traffic but a fence changed all that.

10. This is jb's studio, the Magic Cottage.

11. The house sits on land that was a working farm, so the soil is rich and fertile. kj's garden has been awesome thanks to that, a full sun, and blessings from above.

12. The view from above includes very tall pine trees and a number of happy birds flying every which way. The view from the hammock is the best because you can look and sway at the same time. That approach can solve alot of problems and resolve alot of worries.

13. Part A: One day a very sweet dog arrived, after a bit of a tough life. She has an elegant tail and elegant paws.

13. Part B: This very sweet dog has joined a very nice family who likes to gallavant and play.

The End.

Poetry Thursday (a little late): Tick Tock

Tick-Tock

It could be my first breath,
Or my maybe my last.
I begin the beginning
And look past the past.

The earth offers up
Every clue, every start.
When I know how to look
I arrive at my heart.

It’s simple, not hard
When I let my pride go
To honor today
And all that I know.

The passing of time
Moves forward, not back
In the searching you gain
Everything that you lack.

The Ocean Beckons

I'll be out of reach for a little while. In the meantime, the New England season begins its transformation from sultry to crisp. And I continue my own transformation from self-containment to self-amazement. This is as good a time as any to thank you--each of you--you know who you are--even if you don't know who you are--for being my blog-pal. Another reason for me to feel grateful. Be back soon :)

Poetry Thursday

This is my first entry in Poetry Thursday. This week the prompt is whatever pleases me.
I wrote this poem in the big yellow writing group not even a year ago, and it may have been the first time I read my poetry aloud. It's also my favorite for reasons that come from the heart.

If I were dying tonight,
Lying in my bed with plastic tubes and half-filled bottles
On the small table nearby
and bedpans and oxygen there to diminish any shame,
Perhaps forcing my breaths
with the strength of a desperate parent
who implausibly and frantically lifts two tons
of mangled steel off a broken daughter—
If I were dying tonight and I wished to tell you
What will astonish you,
I would tell you this:

Be sure to notice white flowers in the moonlight,
Because the softened glow is like no other.

Appreciate the lingering scent of garlic on your fingers,
Because healing is possible from that alone.

Tell the truth when it matters least
Because then you will be sure there is another honest person in the world.

Always spend the extra money for dimmers
Because light that builds in intensity and then gently fades is
good for your spirit.

Over and over, ask yourself, “What is the lesson here?”
Because then you will forever be a student and never a victim

Never believe for a moment that the world is going to hell
Because you only need to love outside yourself to know better.


If I were dying tonight, I would tell you all this
Because astonishment is brethren to curiosity,
Which leads to observation,
And dedication,
And finally appreciation.

If I were dying tonight, perhaps there would only be minutes,
Perhaps only seconds,
To tell you that I will leave with all the love
I have ever felt, and ever given.
I will take it all with me, tucked under my angel wing—
The accumulation of grace from every breath I have ever taken.

Here’s what’s astonishing: I will also leave all that love behind,
It will be imbedded in my daughter’s stunning light and my partner’s quiet
courage,
It will guide my friends and coworkers when the layoff comes.
My brother will remember how I tried to do my share
And Joey will find someone else like me to help him tame his fears.
Even the woman at the grocery store that day I let her go ahead of me—will remember how we were both comforted from that simple act.


If I were dying tonight, I would also tell you
That within, under, because of, and from the little moments
Comes all the wonder and astonishment you could ever hope for.
The little moments that aren’t so little.
I would tell you to let those moments astonish you.
I would tell you this because it is all you need to know.

Thursday 13

1. I drive 4 hours one day a week to visit my mother and help her with groceries, bills, etc.

2. One of my favorite gallavants was driving from San Francisco to Truckee CA. The little town of Truckee is still one of my best memories because it looked like a true western town and had a great clothing store and interesting shops.

3. My dog Stella gets acupuncture once a month to help her damaged spine. I'm here to say it has helped her enormously: she moves and runs much easier afterwards.

4. I was a counselor for two years at an Army Education Center in Germany. It was a fabulous job at an artillery and tank base. The ed center was a easy place on base. Hundreds of men, just a handful of women.

5. When I see something that seems unjust or dishonest, I want to fix it (and sometimes too often I try despite the odds).

6. I could hire my own orthopedic surgeon these days: I have low back pain, a cranky old miniscus injury in my knee, and a rotator cuff tear in my shoulder. All will improve with time and exercise, but geez...

7. When Fall arrives, some people around here will sell pumpkins at the end of their driveways for a dollar or two.

8. I've had the same occasional dream for years: I'm alone in a foreign country and I can't figure out how to use the payphone. (scary...)

9. I love playing the slot machines at casinos. Because each spin is exhilerating to me, I figure it's an addiction I manage to keep in check. I usually lose more than I win.

10. I heard yesterday of a credible report that the US administration arranged for Israel to extend bombing Lebanon so Hezballah's missle system would be weakened and the US could then use force on Iran. I'm disgusted to say I believe it. The older I get, the less I understand.

11. Ever since I volunteered in New Orleans last October, I understand the magnitude of returning home to find everything destroyed. I'll never forget seeing families spend entire days in knee high rubber boots, digging through muck and mud to salvage only a tuperware bowl or a glass vase--all that remained of their life in St. Bernard parish. Many lined up these precious objects at the end of their driveways and tried not to cry.

11. Origins puts out a little bottle called "peace of mind" that I dab on the back of my neck and it refreshes and relaxes me almost immediately.

12. My work requires that I be on equal footing with doctors, employers, counselors, and attornies. Attornies are my least favorite.

13. At the end of the week we are headed to Provincetown for a long week or so. I have walked barefoot along the Commercial Street Bay Beach for fifteen years or so and just about every good idea and dream I've had has come from those walks.

nothing but sweet

This is our little dining room, currently graced with a vase of pink zinnias and black-eyed susans grown and cut from our yard. We moved here a year ago and the house has become a vibrant sanctuary and easy resting place. jb's studio (the magic cottage..) is in the back yard and my writing room is in the back hall (the rear wing). The soil is rich and the sun is full. The gardener in me is in a state of perpectual glee and awe.

There's more I want to say, because I believe that sanctuaries like this house quiet the mind and calm the nerves. The house was built in 1950 and is solid. Frances and Bullah lived here for fifty years, raised Bullah's daughters here. Last year when we first arrived, I was careful not to disturb Frances' oregano in the back yard or to make changes to the space that left too little of them. That changed when I heard that following Bullah, Frances had died.

Now almost all the walls are repainted and you can see jb and i in the rooms. We wanted a space where visitors could be comfortable and self sufficient. We want our friends and family here: staying over and eating breakfast on the patio with us. Swinging on the hammock. Sharing stories. We like that.

The house has responded: this is a comfortable comforting place.

So about sanctuaries: even a corner will do. In the happiness workshops I've taught, I advise creating a sanctuary as a way to keep it simple--a place to go and to be to recharge, refill, replenish, release, refresh. Even in the smallest places, a candle can be set and a photo can be hung. That's all it takes to make a sacred space.

We've settled in here. I've spent alot of my life feeling unsettled and unsure about where I belong. The choices and possibilities have confused me. The truth is that I moved here quite reluctantly, and only because jb couldn't continue the painfully long commute to her work.

Neither of us expected this house to be right for us. It is a one floor ranch, and we're not ranch-types. We moved from our beach place in Provincetown, and lived in a Victorian before that.

But today it is right. We have a fire place in the livingroom and off that a porch with windows on 3 sides. We have a half-circle garden with herbs and tomatoes and giant basil. We have a hot tub in the back yard, under the stars with a hollywood-blue light that illuminates the water. We have a dog who appreciates the simple kindness she had not had in her life. We can drive 2 miles and be among working farms. And two miles the other way and fall into the funk and buzz of a college town with great restaurants and endless music and culture. And: We have eachother.

Not everything is ideal: I'm too far from some people I dearly love. And I'm land-locked.

I'm writing this from a place of deep gratitude, but I don't want to mislead or underplay the vague discontent I also feel at times, because that is part of my life too. I'm apt to lean into that discontent more these days rather than ignore or disquise it, and I think that is a good thing for me. I want to be real, even when I don't know much more than that.

I think it's important to connect with and honor the spaces in our lives. Maybe that's why this house, complete with our little dining room (and it is little!) feels so good. We have mutual respect --this house and us.

With this addition complete, I now end today with yesterday's ending: Life has its ups and downs and all arounds. But today I'm just glad to be upright and present in a sweet place.

For a Weary World

Here's to a hopeful world

Where kindness trumps convenience.
Simplicity beats out complexity.
Honor outshines winning.
And hotdamn, compromise is back in style.

Believing is the first sign--
When little actions
And softer landings
Offer a collective sigh of relief.

Sunday Scribblings #20 - "Who Else Can I Still Be?"

This is my first post for Sunday Scribblings. I appreciate another reason to write regularly. This, however, was written a while back. But it seems to fit the prompt this week. My apologies to my big yellow friends who have no doubt seen this before.

The Order of Things

When I was five I’d walk to school
With little question about the rules.
I knew teachers would like me fine
If I were cheerful and mostly kind.

When I was nine I began to see
My face and grace were mostly me,
But about then I sought to be
Someone else—a mystery.

I tucked my dress in my snow pants
And imagined myself as Sherlock Trance
In the field to solve the case
Of the missing pencil case.

When I was twelve something changed
My hair and body rearranged--
Colorless and very drab--
Though I was funny, I discovered sad.

I learned appearances ruled the roost
And pushed forward the awful truth
That I would not be viewed the way
That whiney Natasha became one day.

She’d throw her shoulders back and grin
Knowing that she’d made in
To the elist group of gawky boys
Who loved her cool and polished coy.

When I was fifteen I found a way
To advance myself to where I’d stay—
Popular, cool, myself unique
Still, my inner self dared not peep.

I mastered the tricky art of fame
Built a business, made a name
It was easy to believe
The order of things was to achieve

When I was thirty I met the challenge
Of loving a child and seeking some balance
But even then I tried my best
To push myself without a rest

What mattered most was quite apart
From who I was in my sweet heart.
I began to feel a hole within
Deep and hollow, like empty tin.

I knew enough not to settle
For surface joy made of metal.
So I dropped the charm and tried instead
To be myself, both heart and head

I began to listen more than I spoke
And success became my private joke
About the privilege of a good life
That included truths of loss or strife.

Today I am who I will be
In just this moment, gratefully.
I love and lust and lunge and laugh
I understand when I get half

Instead of whole it hardly matters
Because beneath the wind and chatters
My world is simply full and real
And I’ve become the real real deal.

Thursday 13

1. I'm currently in love with pink zinnias.

2. Peet's coffee is the best--I buy 2 pounds whenever I'm in Boston/Brookline

3. I love to develop and present self-help workshops but I'm a wreck beforehand

4. I am braver emotionally than physically

5. I have been self employed most of my adult life

6. My writing room has a bookcase with glass doors,a roomy wrap around desk, floor length drapes from the 50's, calm salmon-colored walls,and a front seat window view of a very tall pine tree

7. The move to Western Mass. has been awesome. Among many wonderful pieces, I have near-by friends who can drop by for a quick cup of coffee.

8. I'm a better friend in crisis than I am day-to-day

9. I (very briefly--that's another story)owned a restaurant called Tomato City. We specialized in "piecemeals"--all kinds of appetizers--our American cafe version of tapas

10. A friend of mine has been a hospice volunteer for dozens of people. He says nobody passes over alone: at the end almost everyone describes being accompanied by someone they know or trust--could be a childhood teddybear, a deceased grandparent, or an arc angel.

11. And in a related topic, as far as I know, dentists and psychiatrists have the highest suicide rates

12. Sometimes I take a moment to sway in the backyard hammock and then I understand better.

13. I'm an ocean girl but this summer I've discovered the utility and beauty of lakes.

Mom-ment-ous

Today is my birthday. And today is the first time in 21 years that my mother has spent the night at my house. There's a long, sad, difficult,happy-ending story that explains why this is so, but today is not the day for that. Today my 90 year old mother and I are driving on these fragrant farm roads, picking up corn-on-the cob for dinner, and checking out the butterfly sanctuary that spooked me a few weeks ago.

Today I am shouting a collective "thank you" to my family, friends, community and the universe. And I am sharing my favorite poem of all time: Wild Geese by Provincetown's Mary Oliver. I hope it might find you at just the right moment and provide something sacred in the very moment you need it.

Thank you, thank you.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you
mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the
rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue
air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and
exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Thursday Thirteen

1. I drive a Toyota RAV which I can't manage to keep neat or clean.

2. A few years ago I had the privilege of designing and developing the Provincetown Artisian Cooperative. 15 local craft artisians, and other consignor artists, joined together to create and maintain a successful storefront in Whaler's Wharf in Provincetown.

3. I've learned to love fruit, and I'm working on liking salads and salmon, but it's not a slam-dunk for me.

4. I kayaked last week for the first time and loved it: the same as a really fun amusement park ride.

5. I will never again cook a live lobster: too painful

6. I am a political junkie for unknown reasons

7. I am still thinking about the Dixie Chicks and love their new cd

8. At my father's wake, his neighborhood friend Nick, drunk and sad, stood at his coffin and yelled at him for dying. (No comment from my dad)

9. When my inexperienced mother flew to Florida with us a few years ago, as the plane was flying above the clouds, she exclaimed in honest wonder: "I never knew there were two skies". Almost everyone around us smiled.

10. My son-in-law Mike is a really good guy and I love how he and Jess care for eachother.

11. I've written what I think is a good book on Happiness but I won't go forward with it until I am more confident.

12. I unabashedly love dogs. They just warm my heart every time.

13. I'm learning it is possible to develop real friendships through blogging. I wouldn't have believed that before.

Vacation Tools and The Mystery of Now

First, an acknowledgement: I understand the story to follow is too long to include,and too long to read. But I can't help posting it anyway. It is the product of my recent vacation. I'm thinking about submitting it to a magazine of some kind in my active quest to "become" a writer. Of course the counselor in me can't help but add her two cents as well.....

Vacation Tools

One two inch white candle
2 black pilot pens
An unopened travel sized set of Winsor and Newton water colours
Two different sized water color sketch books
A little packet of incense
Fancy matches
A new bathing suit
15 year old spa quality flip-flops
2 books on writing: William Kinsser’s ”On Writing Well”; Julia Cameron’s “The Right to Write”
2 books by Margaret Wheatley: Turning to One Another and A Simpler Way
1 best seller: My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult
1 pound of Italian Roast Coffee
A digital camera
An unopened calligraphy set
My in-process book proposal and a sample of someone else’s

These are the tools of my vacation.

I’m currently staring across the street at a dozen or so mamouth pine trees, their stature reduced only slightly by the orange background and icy glimmer of dusk awash on Sebago Lake. JB and I are here through the kind offer of friends: one week in their just refurbished condo-house in Windham, Maine. There are two quaint lakeside houses between us and the water, but they fit nicely into the larger picture of a gorgeous lake just across the street, surrounded by gorgeous pines.

We arrived last night ready to unwind. I am hobbling with a fragile back these days but despite that I managed to pack my vacation toolbox with how I want to spend my time.

Years ago, a colleague introduced me to the idea of tools and toolboxes. He happily described his work tools as a car, calculator, map, and cigarettes, He was a self employed counselor who saw people in their homes.

That’s when I first started thinking about my own tools. At the time, mine were an umbrella (I like having a plan B), appointment book with phone numbers, also a calculator, car, and maps. (I too was a counselor who saw people in their homes). I also threw in my three “C’s”—caring, creativity and competence--because I’ve always believed that combination is what makes me and anybody else extra good at their work.

I’ve since eliminated maps and umbrellas and added a notepad and pen, books on writing, a cell phone, and fruit when I travel, My appointment book and calculator are still high on my list.

I like the idea of specialized toolboxes. A few years ago I trained Insurance Specialists and included a presentation where I handed out pictures of a toolbox and together we filled it with the skills and tools they needed for their jobs. It was an easy concept and well received. I think that’s because there’s not a situation or circumstance in life where tools of some kind or another are either necessary or helpful to have around.

It took me less than an hour to pack my vacation toolbox. This is one time that I decide who I want to be and pack accordingly. I’ve been fairly consistent over the years: always the candle, watercolors I only use once or twice a year, a generous supply of books I may or may not read. Sometimes I’ve packed interesting ideas or projects that have languished in the regular course of life, but that is not necessary this summer.

JB has packed her own tools: books on collage, art paper and materials, a scrapbook, a small vinyl 60-‘s flowered note book with little compartments for filing papers, her new nano ipod. And today we’ve added our version of “food tools”: 4 chocolate macaroons and 2 two pound lobsters.

My vacation toolbox is overstocked with more than I need or could ever get to in the 7 days we are here. But there’s a comfort in knowing how I am caring for myself. I like that I have packed choices that encourage my mind to let go and move out of the way so I can spontaneously dabble and play.

Planning in advance like this is not something I normally do. Usually I follow the demands and opportunities of daily life, doing my best to carve in personal time, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. But when I’m vacationing, I am able to pause, step back, and see all the stress I’ve been lugging around--and that weight doesn’t disappear just because the chores of life are temporarily suspended. It takes me a good week to untie that knot: when I’ve been lucky enough to have two weeks of uninterrupted vacation, the second week is often sheer joy.

Vacations allow me to change the rhythm of time, more to my own liking and to my own pace. But that doesn’t happen all at once.

It’s the end of our first day and I’d say JB and I are doing pretty well: we’ve swum 2 times in the little lake a footpath away. We’ve bought our favorite foods for the week, we shared a double lobster roll at a cozy little café,we gallivanted by car a little along Route 302, and we took our sweet shelter dog Stella for three walks--all three of us still thrilled that yesterday, despite her advancing age, injured spine, and/or lack of experience, she mastered stairs for the first time.

Tonight we had our two pound lobsters for dinner. Now I am writing, JB is reading, Stella is sleeping. Cheryl Wheeler is singing a song about New England in the background. We know that we will wake up tomorrow morning whenever we want, forego our underwear (all week!) for bathing suits, eat cinnamon bread and lowfat yogurt with fresh fruit and granola for breakfast out on the deck, poke around this three-street little lakeside community where Stella can prance off her leash, and most likely have our first swim by 10 am. If this sounds stress-free, of course it is. But it also isn’t, not yet.

It takes my mind a little time to let go. As that happens, thankfully, I will become more anchored in the present moment, less connected to the past, and less worried about the future. Virginia Woolf called these “streams of consciousness” moments. For me they’re rare glimpses into the life I would have—could have—do have--if—when I live full and real. Of course I’d rather be swimming on steamy hot days than shopping for groceries or putting in time at work, but whatever I’m doing, when I accept and stay with whatever is in front of me, I move more and think less. That sounds so new-age, but living this way is actually an increasing quandrum in modern life. I know I’m absolutely, positively not alone in acknowledging that it is remarkably, surprisingly, shockingly difficult to live in the moment. That could perhaps be a minor problem instead of a major one if it weren’t true that I only exist in this moment. I can only be-here-now. I can only do what I do and not do what I don’t do. Vacation helps me understand this. It turns the volume down and that helps my five senses more easily experience the world. “Time off” helps immensely, but I think the rhythm comes back mostly because I decide how I want it to be. I outlined the bones of that decision when I packed my vacation toolbox.

There is no TV here. No internet service. No washer/dryer. If history proves true, I know already that by the end of the week I will have added another tool in my toolbox: a new timepiece that moves as slowly and consciously as I want it to. It will be in rhythm with my body, and it will quiet my mind. It will help me move through space with greater ease.

I also know that once I return home to western Massachusetts and the land of vacuum cleaners and unpaid bills, my new timepiece will run down and acquiesce to action and activity.

And then comes the really hard part--I know this because I’ve been there before: I will be overwhelmed by the chores and demands that have waited for me. My stress will expand and my capacity to handle it will constrict. But I will also find myself at a junction where I can make a clean choice. I can’t change my circumstance and chores, but thanks to a relaxing vacation, I’ve had the chance to get reacquainted with my favorite self--with my natural self. I definitely overstocked my vacation toolbox, as usual, but it worked great. I pulled out the paints, read some books, wrote as I wished. And I swam in the cool water and hot air first and last thing everyday. I’m arriving home in balance. But I know this too: very soon my day-to-day circumstance and chores will overtake me, especially if I don’t take some thoughtful measure against them.

If I were to add some protective “life-tools” to my toolbox, what they would look like? What I would use them for? What maintenance would they require?

I wonder what it will take to restock my toolbox next week, and the week after that, and after that, with tools that will chisel away stress, sculpt support, provide anchors. Tools that will help me be and stay myself and keep me centered in some core way when the world around me goes to hell and back. I’m wonder what a specially made “kj tool” would look and feel like. Maybe it would cut away unnecessary weeds, prune back overwhelming expectations, drill though bullshit, ring an alarm when I’m at risk of going overboard. Maybe I could order the smaller size—the one with a compass attached, so it could fit in my pocket and I could take it everywhere.

If my kj tool had multiple parts, I could take my time and read the instruction book. If it were very costly, I could put it on layaway. If it were fragile, I could treat it with great care and protection. If it were very heavy or needed batteries, I could conserve it for special occasions. Maybe I could come to count on it to find my way and stay there.

A lot of life tools are already in place for me these days. And yet, my footing slip-slides too easily. I can’t imagine what it would be like to feel solid, centered, secure, for longer than vacations and stream of consciousness moments. I can’t swim 2 or 3 times a day in my non-vacation life, but I can see the sunset, smell the garden basil, touch the soil, hear my daughter’s voice, feel the warmth of friendship.

I want at least some of my vacation tools to become life tools. I want to know that my toolbox will cover most occasions. Then I can more confidently live my interesting life. My week at Sebago Lake guides me to who I am when I live like this. I want to be this Me. Here. Now.

Bed and the Battlefield

Well, I'm sad, unhappy, disillusioned, disappointed, confused (etc etc) about the current state of the state and the shaky state of the world. How can it take so many centuries to figure out a different way to fight?

So here's my free thinking on the matter, written over a few installments:

Bed and the Battlefield

This I said
Could be my bed
If only my head
Could sleep instead.
But now I fret—
A large regret,
A presidential foolish bet
Several packs of cigarettes
Stored inside a dresser drawer
Guy-swagger in a sad sad war
Where hearts are bent and limbs so sore
I ask for less but hope for more
I wash my face,
Watch the chase,
Then take my place
And pray for grace.

I watch the news
When I should snooze
Stunned and bummed
By cities mummed
And homes in ruin,
What’s this guy doing
To lead like this:
A colossal miss
Of international
Non factional
And coolly rational
Peace among
The tested ones.
What's it take
to stop the guns?
It could be done
And in its place
A different face
With undue haste
a truce with grace,
a resting place.

I’ll go to bed
Tonight instead
And in the dawn
I’ll come along
Barely strong
But courage long
For steps for peace
A war at cease
An honest crease
For those the least.

And for those the more,
An open door
At its core
To change the future
Evermore.

home again

I've been vacationing in Maine. It's been good. I swam in Sebago Lake 2 or 3 times a day. I read Julia Cameron's book The Right to Write and then I introduced myself as " a becoming writer" all week. I'm excited to catch up with everybody's blogs. It's good to be home.

Thursday 13 for Jessica

Last week was Jessica's 29th birthday. But not just that: we now know she is safely 13 weeks pregnant. We will welcome and love another treasured person in our family. Wow. I imagine I will be a playful vibrant grandmother: I certainly know there is plenty of wonder and mystery to share and discover.

In honor of Jess' birthday, here's a Thursday 13 for her:

1. 15 minutes after Jess was born, I ate a ham and cheese sandwich and could have eaten another.

2. When Jess was 14 I made her get a summer job, thinking the value of work and her own spending money was a good thing. She and her friend Annie found work in a shoe factory. After resisting the whole idea, she came home the first day with a new found enthusiasm. "it's really cool, mom. They'll pay you in shoes instead of money."

3. Jess could be a top notch detective. When Charles Stewart murdered his wife, she was weeks ahead of anyone else in saying he did it.

4. Jess could also be an attorney. At the youngest age she could persuade you her made-up words for scrabble were real.

5. Jess could also be a professional shopper. Nobody finds bargains like this girl.

6. She and I took a 3 week trip to the West Coast when she was 12. We started in Berkeley, drove down Highway 1 to LA and Disneyland,then San Diego, then drove across the Red Desert (?)through Utah to the Grand Canyon, where we rode mules half way down and my fear of heights just about had a heart attack.

7. I could tell Jess loved Mike the first time I saw them together.

8. Their wedding last September is a permanent best-memory: I can still remember every detail. They couldn't stop laughing through most of the solemn ceremony and that made the priest and minister laugh too.

9. The wedding party and parents, all formally dolled up, were trollied to the 3 pm tour of Fenway Park, before the 6 pm wedding in downtown Boston. The pictures of us all in the bleachers are priceless.

10. There is nothing worse than seeing your little child's feelings hurt by her friends: you'd like to beat them up for being mean, but of course, alas, you've got to choose a more non-confrontational path.

11. Jess has held on to almost all her friends from junior high, high school, and college.

12. I can't explain what makes Jess so funny, but you just have to listen to her for a few minutes and you know that she has a cynical and unique wit and way of seeing that no one else does.

13. I would absolutely positively run right into any burning house to rescue this daughter of mine. And knowing that, since the day she was born, has made me a better and better person.

Happy Birthday, Jess. Here's to everything ahead. Love Mom

Thursday Thirteen

1. I had a parakeet named Chris who died upright on his perch. I couldn't believe it.

2. I'm in physical therapy to take care of my termpermental back and it's almost like going for a massage.

3. I love to stay up late-late and get up early-early.

4. I love this quiet time: sometimes I watch late night tv, sometimes I write, sometimes I read, sometimes I fall asleep on the couch.

5. Besides pizza and bread, I'm pretty fond of Dunkin Donuts boston cream donuts. I haven't had one in about 6 months...

6. My daughter Jessica is funnier than anyone else I know

7. jb taught me the value of good shoes.

8. We just painted our kitchen/den/dining room (small rooms) green/yellow on the top walls and orange on the bottom (with cream trim) and it came out fantastic. We were holding our breath after the first coat

9. I read tarot cards. The first deck I ever had was a James Bond set my mother gave me for Christmas. I don't really tell details about the future but the counselor in me gives a pretty good read.

10. I wish I could volunteer more for the Red Cross but I never seem to be free when they call me.

11. jb and I had a cookout last weekend in our "new" backyard. Our neighbors and friends came and jb, her sister cindy,I, and several friends cooked and prepared a good spread of appetizers, burgers and goodies.

12. I'm following the seasons here in Western Massachusetts: blueberries, cherries,unbelievable corn on the cob, and peaches are currently in.

13. Some day I plan to pull a police car over for speeding on the highway--my version of a citizen's arrest.

Not Ready to Make Nice

"I'm through with doubt.
There's nothing left for me to figure out.
I've paid a price.
And I'll keep paying.
I'm not ready to make nice.
I'm not ready to back down.
I'm still mad as hell and
I don't have time to go round and round and round.
It's too late to make it right.
I probably wouldn't if I could.
Cause I'm mad as hell.
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should."
The Dixie Chicks

A few years ago the country-singing Dixie Chicks publicly criticized President Bush's actions in Iraq. They were effectively blackballed throughout country music and their song play and careers came to an abrupt halt.

It's not my intent or style to use this blog to advance my political opinion, or anybody else's. But taking this stand took courage and I admire that.

The Dixie Chicks are back with a new cd called "Taking the Long Way". And in that cd is a song called "Not Ready to Make Nice". Without knowing in advance how they and their music would be received, they made another decision to stand by what they believe in. You might not agree with them, but I for one admire their courage yet again.

And it's gotten me thinking about courage and conviction. I like the clarity and firmness of "not ready to make nice". It's clean and honest. It's realistic about consequences. And it's free of guilt. In this teetering time of nuclear weapons and tough guy approaches, I vote for more not less courage and conviction. And on a more mundane level, following the recent writing prompt on "guilt", I find it refreshing to be so clear and firm. No late night tossing and turning about something you believe is right, and that's a good thing.

"Taking the Long Way" is a really fine album. The Dixie Chicks have had their comeback tour cancelled in some states and venues due lack of support or concerns about safety. While there's still plenty of fans, I encourage you to buy the cd, enjoy it, and support these 3 women for speaking their minds and exercising their backbone.

Not ready to make nice is the opposite of numb, and I'm for more of that too.

The Thursday Thirteen

1. I have a master's degree in rehab. counseling

2. The best hot chocolate I've ever had was at Angelina's cafe in Paris

3. I know how to use an electric screwdriver

4. But I don't know how to change a flat tire (and probably never will)

5. I went to a butterfly sanctuary today and was afraid of the butterflies (they flew all over the place)

6. I eat red meat 2-3 times a year

7. I eat chocolate 2-3 times a week

8. I like grocery shopping and paying bills but I hate doing laundry and vacuuming

9. My 2 week stint with the Red Cross in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina changed who I am--for the better

10. I stash away 20 dollar bills a couple of times a month and one time I accumulated over a thousand dollars that way

11. The funniest movie I've ever seen is "Sordid Lives"--I've seen it 3 times

12. I don't accessorize very well

13. When I come across a joke I like, I'll tell it to someone else every chance I get

A Zen-ie Thought for the Day

A man walks into a diner. When the waitress comes to take his order, he asks her:

"Did you see me come in?"

"Yes", she said.

"Have you ever seen me before?"

"No", she said.

"Then how did you know it was me?"

Thoughts about Blogging

I'm starting to wonder about connections and friendships from blogging. It's weird to share, to learn about someone, let alone care about them, without knowing them in some other context, or perhaps never meeting, seeing their face, hearing their voice, knowing where and how they live. One of the contributors to Illustration Friday has "disappeared"--she hasn't made an entry in weeks, and I find myself worrying about her, wondering what happened. It feels oddly strange that I'd like to know she's ok.

For a couple of years I was part of a dog group: we'd meet in the middle of a park every day with our dogs; we'd talk, laugh, catch up, philosophize--all this on a first name basis but not much else. Ususually we didn't know eachother's last names,about our work selves, homes, kids, backgrounds etc. But we knew what was happening day to day, as we shared stories about the best shoes for sub zero (ughs), places to take our dogs, the murder of sharon's beloved son, and the rearranging of jonatha's music and career. I remember thinking how lovely it was to have relationships based so fully and soley in the present moment.

Is blogging the same kind of connection? Can you really come to know someone in this way? How are personal boundaries different, if at all? How can you be who you are and yet be discreet in what you share about yourself?

These are my thoughts on this fine Thursday night. Any comments?

Thursday Thirteen

1. I would drive all day to have lunch or dinner at Mr. Sushi in Brookline. I order the california rolls, chicken terraki rolls and shrimp tempura rolls--no raw fish for me--these three are a piece of heaven.

2. The first time I remember deeply crying was when i read Nobody's Boy. I was probably 1o and it was the first book i ever checked out of the library

3. I was cast as Aida in a Neil Coward play my senior high school school and during a few performances I made up my own lines a couple of times, to the pleasure of the audience and to the dismay of the lead actress

4. I can uncover or create any resource for any occasion. I'm just persistent.

5. I love playing slot machines even though I lose every time

6. Two of my best friends were killed in accidents before they turned 30

7. I love Paris for reasons I don't understand but I could live there

8. I'm a good counselor

9. My first car was an Austin my father rebuilt for me. It had little hands that stuck out for directionals and I was only allowed to drive it two miles to the busstop and back. He later rebuilt a Metropolitan for me, which was probably the smallest car ever made. It had a little bench for the back seat.

10. For the first time in my life I have a yard with full sun. I am a squealing-with-delight gardener these days.

11. I am re-inventing myself as a writer. When my first publication occurs, I plan to celebrate with a hot fudge sundae,and then a trip to mr. sushi.

12. I love my laptop computer more than I ever dreamed I would.

13. I'm 58 (wow!)but feel alot younger: I'm pretty satisfied with my life these days.

ps A: this is for you. I was arrested for breaking and entering at age 13 because i and 2 of my friends happily met three boys we liked for a little get together in the woods of a private boarded up estate. one of us got the idea to open a window and check out the estate. first we stood on a little table and broke it, then an alarm went off, then the car wouldn't start, and then appeared two policemen who actually surrounded us. it took a week for them to call my parents about it and my father brought me to the policestation and volunteered me to pick up leaves as a punishment. I was mortified, and by the way, none of the three of us ended up with any of the guys. such is the life of a 13 year old...

The Prompt that Preferred Summer Lounging

Since I suggested this prompt, here it is, but be forewarned: I'm imaginatively floating in an imaginary pool, readying for an imaginary margarita.

The Road Not Taken

I took a left instead of right
And followed an unlikely sight.
Up ahead beneath a tree
Was someone looking just like me.

She quinched her eyes
She looked surprised
She shook her head
And finally said,

“Because I’m here
I’m never there.
I may look lost
But that’s the cost

Of being me and never you
I recommend it through and through”